


The Fall

by TheRavynFire



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Consensual Underage Sex, Explicit Language, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, I don’t even know where this came from, I should be working on my other stories, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Virginity, Original Character(s), Sex in a Car, Underage Smoking, Vaginal Fingering, this was just an excuse to write Billy Hargrove smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 16:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22213849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRavynFire/pseuds/TheRavynFire
Summary: He’s using her. But she’s using him too. She keeps telling herself it will end, that she’ll stop it before he drags her down with him, but she can’t deny she loves the fall.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Yeaaaaah. I have like 3 other stories I need to be updating yet here I am in the Billy Hargrove trash pile. This just wouldn’t go away and honestly I have no idea what I have planned this could be a one shot. Anyway here it is.

If you looked up asshole in the dictionary, his picture would be there smiling smugly, aquamarine eyes shining, and a cigarette between his lips no doubt. 

He was everything she disliked in a man- no a _boy_ , because he did not act like a man. He had the maturity level of a toddler at best. He was smug, cocky, rude, impatient. She had heard him berating his little sister the first day they had arrived when walking past his blue Camaro and thought, ‘what a pig’. She had made a mental note to avoid him, this new kid, whoever the hell he was, and do so like he carried the plague. 

And yet here she was in the backseat of his Camaro, pressed into the leather, glasses askew, her turtleneck pushed up to her neck, her bra pulled down, her skirt bunched up at her waist, panties shoved to the side, stockings hanging haphazardly off one ankle, her shoes lost amongst the floorboards, and his name a panted prayer falling from her lips. 

He was between her legs, his shirt unbuttoned, pants unbuckled and two fingers deep inside of her, rubbing _that_ spot inside of her in steady fast circles, expertly sending her rushing right to the brink of orgasm in a surprisingly short amount of time. 

She wasn’t exactly new to sexual experiences, she was a virgin,but she’d been here before, a few times in fact, with a previous boyfriend who hadn’t been as smooth, was rather clumsy, actually, and didn’t really care for her pleasure. She’d faked it to stroke his ego, but wasn't left satisfied or impressed. That was probably why she couldn’t bring herself to go all the way, even though she’d come dangerously close many times with Tim before they’d broken up two months ago. She’d decided then that she was going to wait, to make sure it was with the perfect _man,_ who was mature enough to appreciate it and who could make it worth her while. 

But Billy Hargrove was _not_ the perfect guy. And, again, that didn’t stop her from somehow finding herself in his backseat, parked behind the old barn off the road he drove and she walked every day to get to and from school, which obscured them from the view of any passing car. 

Truth be told she wasn't sure how she had ended up there, it all seemed like a blur. 

She’d been walking home and there was the roar of an engine from behind her, a flash of blue passing, the Camaro coming to screeching halt a few paces before her. She remembered rolling her eyes, already knowing who it was, hell everyone knew who he was by now, and telling herself to ignore him and walk briskly past. 

Which she promptly had started to do. 

Then he’d spoke. 

“Hey Patterson,” he drawled, a bright white smile spreading across his face that had made her halt just at his passenger window. 

He was leaning over to see her, his eyebrows up with interest, one arm resting on the steering wheel. He was wearing those tight jeans all the girls talked about and a button down shirt with the first four buttons undone revealing tanned skin, sparse chest hair. His brown leather jacket was draped across the front seat. 

_How the hell does he know my last name?_ She wondered, but scoffed outwardly to show her disinterest. It only seemed to make his smile widen. 

He’d never spoken to her before this, and they’d never really interacted aside from a shared look, his usually accompanied with a smile, hers a frown, while walking in the hallways. They didn't share classes and unlike him, she was not Ms. Popular, she wasn’t disliked, but she didn't hang around Steve Harrington or Tommy or Carol or anyone that fit the definition of _‘cool’_ so she wasn’t widely known. It meant that he would have had to make some effort to learn her name if he didn't ask her directly, something he’d clearly done. 

“A girl like you shouldnt be walking out here alone,” he continued.

“I walk this road every day, _Hargrove_ ,” she answered, pushing her black wide rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. If he was going to call her by her last name then two could play that game. 

“Let me give you a ride home.”

She huffed. “As if, Hargrove.”

He chuckled then, dark and low, and it sent unexpected and uninvited tingles down her spine. “Why walk when you can ride?” 

He arched one eyebrow and let his eyes travel, slow and deliberate, down from her face to what he could see of her through the window. Her cheeks heated up and she had to look away from his unnervingly penetrating stare to regain her bearings. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” she turned to go. 

“Now come on, Patterson-.”

She paused. “ _Amber._ My name is Amber.”

She had meant to sound snarky. To have a bite to her tone, instead she almost sounded flirty. Billy noticed, of course he noticed, and that smile turned into a smirk. 

“ _Ammmmber_ ,” he said her name softly, drawing out the m, with purpose, almost purring, sending more tingles through her. 

She should have kept walking then, before she did something stupid. 

She did the stupid thing.

She barely remembered agreeing to get in, she was just suddenly in the car encased in the smell of leather and cigarettes and his cologne. She didn’t remember his excuse for parking behind the barn or what he’d said that had allowed him to steal that first kiss. It was like she’d been hypnotized, mesmerized, conned. 

Billy surrounded her, lips and hands everywhere, his weight pushing her down into the leather, pinning her between his body and the seat. She could barely form a coherent thought, the pleasure, the weight, _everything_ , was overwhelming.

“Are you going to cum for me?” He egged her on, gruff whispers in her ear, his lips brushing her cheek.

Her back bowed and her fingers dug into the leather, the material groaning. There was a tightening in her abdomen, a steady growing pressure, and she was welcoming it’s eruption with impatience, calling to it, aching for it. She certainly wasn’t faking it now, she couldn’t have produced the embarrassing sounds coming from her mouth this authentically if she’d tried.

“Billy,” she gasped, eyes shut tight. She didn’t know why she couldn’t seem to say anything else. 

He grabbed her chin roughly, long fingers hot and splayed on her jaw. Her eyes snapped open in surprise, meeting his, seeing the fire burning in them. He looked like a predator, like he wanted nothing more than to devour her whole, inside and out. It made her heart skip a beat, the pressure in her abdomen increase, a yelp of surprise slipping from her lips. 

“No, no, no, you look at me when I make you cum,” he growled down at her. 

“Billy,” she whimpered again in response, holding his gaze as commanded. She worried briefly she’d forgotten how to say anything. 

“What? You going to cum?” He asked, almost tauntingly, as if he were daring her too. 

And yes she was, or at least she’d hoped that was what that delicious feeling of pleasurable pressure meant. She’d never actually had an orgasm before, not even by her own hand. Masturbating at home was weird. It was just her and her dad and while he was often gone at work she always worried he’d show up randomly, home early from work, and barge into her room that didn’t have a lock on the door and catch her in the act. Things between them were tense enough since her mother’s death, she didn’t need ‘I caught you masturbating’ tension in the air too.There was also the fact that it never felt right when she did attempt it, leaving her frustrated and giving up minutes in. 

But this feeling, that she was chasing, that was threatening to explode and drown her, she _wanted_ it. 

She nodded frantically, still holding that fiery gaze and biting her lip to at least stop saying his name for god sake, though the whimpers never stopped. 

“Say it.” 

She swallowed and forced her brain to _work._ To say something other than ‘ _Billy_ ’ in that desperate whiny voice. 

“I want to...t-to…” 

He’d changed things up, stopping the circles and doing rapid taps with added pressure, and it had her eyes rolling and the words disappearing right off her tongue. She forgot what she was going to say, she forgot how to breathe, she forgot everything in a blinding flash of pleasure. The only thing which snapped her out of it was Billy’s movements halting, his grip on her chin tightening. 

“Uh uh, you don’t get to cum until you say it,” he clicked his tongue at her, shaking his head, giving her a mock stern look, while his eyes gave away his amusement when she let out a frustrated huff at the loss of sensation. 

“Billy,” she panted. 

Dammit. There it was again. 

“Ammmmber,” he drawled again. Just like before, drawing out the m. He leaned in close, the warm wetness of his tongue flicking out to taste her bottom lip. She followed when he withdrew, wanting his kiss, he stayed out of reach, chuckling darkly. “Say it. Come on. You can do it.”

“I want to cum,” she blurted, summoning the strength to use her brain for a nearly complete sentence. “ _Please_ ,” she added desperately. 

“Good girl,” he praised, sending an added thrill right through her. She’d do just about anything to hear him call her that again, and she had no idea why. 

She received her reward promptly, a change in speed and rhythm, an added pressure, and there it was. A bigger blinding flash of pleasure, temporarily stealing her sight, her breath, drowning her in it. She went rigid, Billy’s name coming off her lips, _again_ , accompanied by her release drenching his hand. She stayed lost there, drowned in that pleasure, until it dissipated and she slowly came back to reality. 

She regained her sight in time to see Billy licking her release from his hand with an obscene moan. He watched her with eyes full of hunger as he did, she could do nothing, but watch back, frozen in shock and arousal. 

He reached for her, she flinched involuntarily, something that made him smirk. She wasn't afraid of him, okay maybe she was a little, but she was also aroused beyond the point of feeling shame or thinking about what would happen after this was done. 

He leaned back into the seat, planting his feet on the floorboard, never taking his eyes off of her. The leather groaned as he shifted his hips and pulled himself from his jeans. She hesitated at the sight of how large it was, not that she had many to compare it to, just Tim’s. But even compared to him, Billy was the largest she had seen, something she assumed attributed to his cocky attitude. 

“Remember when I mentioned that ride?” He asked with that smirk, white teeth shining from behind full lips. 

“O-Oh,” She stuttered out in surprise. He expected _her_ to do this? She’d never done-.

He reached over and took her by the hips, pulling her up and onto his lap. Grabbing onto his shoulders, noting how muscular they were, she dug her fingers into his skin, feeling heat and sweat, and her heart raced. She looked around nervously, finding that she had to force her eyes away from his face, taking in the fogged up windows which rendered the view outside impossible. No one would be able to see them behind the barn from the road and no one would be walking around in the woods behind them. 

Billy gripped her hips hard, recalling her attention and a moan from her throat, making eye contact as he licked his palm slow and dirty, then used his spit to lubricate himself. Not that he really needed it, she could feel her own slick dripping down her thighs and she knew that he knew that and guessed he was just showing off. She wanted to scoff at him, to come back to her senses, tell him that this is as far as he’s going to get. That this was fun, but she needed to go. 

And she starts too. 

“Billy….” it’s a whispered whimper, barely audible. That’s all she gets out. Just his stupid name, the word thats become the primary noun of her vocabulary. 

Pathetic.

One hand is used to line himself up, thick head pressing into her before she wiggled her hips involuntarily and then she’s sinking down on him fully with a surprising amount of ease. There’s more pleasure than pain, and even the pain is just the slight irritation of being stretched, and it somehow only managed to increase the pleasure. She’s fully seated in seconds, full and gasping in short breaths, squeezing into Billy’s shoulders to try and anchor herself. Her eyes fluttered and it’s a struggle to truly catch her breath, especially when he starts moving and each thrust is a blinding flash of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Amber,” Billy groaned, rolling his hips up into her. 

Fuck was right. Because Billy was _good_. He had the right rhythm, the right tempo, and the sounds he made sent shivers through her. He’s everywhere, in and out, and all around, pulling her close to his chest, lips on her neck. Kissing, licking, biting sharp enough that she yelps. All the while he never ceases the variation of the piston and rolling of his hips. She’s back to that brink in no time and tells him so by the steady, and increasing in volume by the thrust, call of his name. 

She hissed when he grabbed a handful of her hair at the root, pulling her head back. “Don’t you dare even think about cumming unless you say it,” he whispers darkly into her neck, accenting the warning with another sharp bite. 

Licking her lips she thinks of the words, envisions them and hopes they fall out of her lips somewhere in the midst of the gasps, the moans, and his name. She’s close to heaven, it’s within her grasp, and she briefly believed she might actually die if she _doesn’t_ get to cum. 

“Billy, I- _oh god-_.”

“Billy, I, _what_?” He prompted her, lust burning in his eyes, lips parted in anticipation of her forming an actual sentence. 

There’s that feeling just as before, but more intense, ready to drag her down and drown her again. “I’m going to cum,” she blurts almost in surprise, like she’s not expecting it, like she’s not internally begging for it. 

And she did. The pleasure burst within her, swallowing her whole, blinding her once more. She stilled, surrendering to the pleasure, soaking up every feeling, but Billy never stopped his pistoning and rolling. 

When she regained the ability to see again Billy’s face came into view, and she’d never seen a more beautiful sight. His head thrown back against the seat, dirty blonde curls trapped behind him, eyes shut tight, mouth hanging open and a look of abandon on his face. He’s lost in the sensation too, close to losing himself completely in her. She briefly worried that she should tell him to pull out, the thought that he was not father material nor was she ready to be a teenage mother, crossing her mind. But he looked so pure in that moment, the hardness gone from his face, that she can’t do anything. 

He groaned, gripping her hips bruisingly tight and thrusts home hard once more. She felt the heat of his release, hot and thick. To her surprise she found him hotter than before, felt a thrill at the thought of _her_ being able to make him fall apart so beautifully. He continued to thrust lightly until he finally stilled and let out a hefty sigh. 

“Christ, Patterson,” he panted finally opening his eyes to look at her. His lips slid into a grin as he regarded her. “It’s always the nerdy ones that are really fun.”

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, that shame finally catching up to her, regret following behind it quickly. She moved to get off of his lap, already stuttering about how she really needed to get home and how her dad would be waiting for her, when he grabbed her stopping her dismount. He took hold of the back of her neck and brought her mouth back to his, kissing her deeply until she was melting into him, just like the first time he’d kissed her. 

When he withdrew her eyes were still closed and lips puckered. 

“Now let’s get you home.”

It was clear that Billy didn’t feel an ounce of shame as they cleaned themselves up with napkins from his glove compartment and righted their clothes. But she felt it. It stewed within her, leaving her cheeks red and her lips clamped shut, the engine roaring as he sped her home. She hated how alive she had felt in his backseat, how quickly he had unraveled her and her morals and values, and how much she’d truly loved it, despite what she told herself. She’d been a walking shell for the past few months and this was the first time that she’d felt _anything_ , besides anger and pain, and maybe thats why he’d slipped past her barriers so easily. 

She’d known she _needed_ something, was wandering aimlessly for months trying to find it and he’d provided it. And she knew that was very dangerous, Billy Hargrove was not the kind of person that she should be coming to for comfort. 

In no time at all he was pulling to a screeching stop in front of her home, she later wondered why she hadn’t had to give him directions, and she was thankful her father's truck wasn’t in the driveway. 

Billy stopped her when she reached for the door handle, his lips still in a grin, eyes shining. “What? No goodbye kiss? No thank you?” 

She didn’t think she could turn a deeper shade of red, but her cheeks flames proving her wrong. She wasn’t going to kiss him again. This wasn’t what this was. She wanted to go inside, shower, and lie to herself, repeatedly, by pretending it never happened. 

“Thank you for the ride,” she forced through clenched teeth, her voice still managing to crack. 

Billy’s grin widened and he used the tight grip on her bicep to pull her backwards, right to his full lips, stealing another deep kiss. The taste of cigarettes overwhelmed her, as did his tongue, she almost got lost in its but maintained her senses. She shoved against his chest, hard enough to remove his persistent mouth and got out of the car quickly before he did anything else. He chuckled softly, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, watching her adjusting her clothing and books. 

“I’ll see you around, _Ammmber_ ,” he purred. 

She hated the tingles that rushed through her at that. She refused him further eye contact and made for her front door, freezing momentarily when the familiar sound of her father's truck coming down the road rumbled in the air. Her head whipped around, spotting him coming down the street and hoping he hadn’t noticed her getting out of Billy’s car. 

Billy finally took off down the street with a roar of his engine, her eyes rolling in annoyance while she ran for the door, fumbling with her key. The door relented and she was able to slip inside, depositing her books on the table and hurrying to the bathroom. 

She rinsed her face, brushed her teeth to remove the taste of cigarettes and _him,_ and used a warm washcloth to properly clean beneath her skirt. She wanted to shower but with her father home and having potentially seen her getting out of Billy’s car, she didn’t want to arouse further suspicion. 

John, her father, is already in his lazy boy with a beer in hand by the time she stepped into the living room, doing her best to smile innocently.

“Was that the Hargrove boy I saw driving away from here?” He asked with an arched eyebrow. 

“Yes, he was asking for directions, guess he got turned around on the way to the arcade,” she lied quickly and too easily. 

She’d never lied to her dad before, except for whenever he’d ask how she was after the death of her mother and she’d say ‘fine’, she hadn’t been fine then and still wasn’t. He’d always been a good dad, he was kind and patient and trusting of her, but there was a hardness to him now that wasn’t there before her mother’s passing. It reared its ugly head every now and then in the form of a short temper. He’d never hit her, but he had raised his voice a few times like he never had before. He’d always apologize later, sincerely, and she’d cut him slack. Her mother’s death had been hard on them both, they were barely holding it together. 

“Are you two friends?” He asked, suspicion in his eyes. The disapproval clear. 

“No,” she blurted a little too fast. “Not at all.”

His face softened at that, he smiled at her. “Probably best if you just stay away from him, Kiddo. I don’t hear good things about that boy and his family. Probably best not to get mixed up with them. ”

She swallowed and tried to hide the guilt from her face. “I will, Dad.” 


End file.
